About time!

I used to be so excited to update my blog.
...And then I started college.
I mean, it's not that I'm not excited anymore, it's just a severe lack of time.
And I feel like I should probably be documenting everything that's happening. That I should've kept this updated to document the up's and down's and truly reflect the whole college experience. I mean, this is a pretty huge change right? This is a pretty significant part in my life. I probably should've expressed my feelings or something. I probably should've talked about the things on my mind, the concerns, the fears, all of that.

But quite frankly, I'm glad I didn't.

Truth: College sucked. (Past tense. Don't start worrying about me too much.)
I really don't want to get into specifics as to why it sucked, because I try to put the past behind me. I think I had a severe case of homesickness...something I didn't think would hit me too hard. But honestly, no matter how mature you think you are, no matter how much you've convinced yourself that you'll be fine, no matter how ready for college you think you are...you're not. I missed little things. I missed getting in a car and driving wherever I wanted because I knew where everything was. I missed walking into the pantry to grab a snack. I missed my dog, for goodness sake! And of course, I missed my family, my brother, especially.
College wasn't as easy as a transition as I imagined. For some reason I had it all blown up in my mind, glorified to be something awesome, that I'd instantly make tons and tons of friends and we'd hang out all the time and it was just going to be super awesome.
Well as it turns out, that's not the way it works, exactly. My dorm, Coronado, really is all it's cracked up to be. Bros and sorority hos. I'm pretty sure they broke the record for highest number of MIP's in one dorm...on the first weekend. And then there was marching band. Band camp was literally hell. Literally. I mean, it was over 100 degrees outside. It was so incredibly time consuming, because if I wasn't practicing, I was exhausted FROM practicing. And of course, I was a rookie again...I forgot what it was like to be at the bottom, and not know anyone, and have no one know you.

So after the first month or so I started thinking to myself, "Is any of this worth it?" I was so incredibly unhappy. I mean, there were definitely some good times, I definitely did have fun, but in the overall scheme of things, was I happy here in Tucson, did I belong here?

Oh, and then I started to question my major. MY MAJOR. Seriously? I love journalism. I was so ridiculously set on being a sports broadcaster, how could I question that. I'm taking a Principles of Journalism class and in the first classes my professor showed us statistics, about how many of us will actually change majors. How few of us will actually work in the field we want (aka sports broadcasting). How competitive the field is. How it's a dying profession. How so many people who graduate with a journalism degree, simply can't find jobs. Just super disheartening stuff.

Anyway, I re-evaluated myself and my situation. After talking a lot with my best friend in the whole wide world, I highly considered a transfer to BYU-Provo, something I have always always ALWAYS been against. (I realized that it would be a lot harder to transfer than I realized, first year transfer students don't qualify for scholarships, whaaat.) So after that was out of the question, and after a lot of conversations with my best friends (I really didn't want to tell anyone about my doubts, so I actually held it in for a while. I mean, I didn't even want to tell my family because I didn't want them to worry about me.) I realized that my attitude needed to change. Deep down, I knew things would work out...that's just the way it is. We're not given more challenges than we can handle, right? But I needed to be more positive. And that was my goal for September. If I was going to be here, I might as well enjoy myself and stop worrying...because things will fall into place.

So September.
I think things really started to lighten up when my family came down for Labor day. They were literally here for a day, but that was definitely the pick-me-up I needed. Having a pasta-fest with them at Olive Garden, catching up with my brother at the mall. Yeah, I needed that.
And from then on...things just kept getting better! I've been really successful in all of my classes, which has made me extremely happy. Band has become much much MUCH more enjoyable. (probably because I'm just so immune to pain now...) Football games are actually quite fun, and it's so great to walk to my dorm after games and have people literally applaud me because they're so impressed. (yeah, so much for band kids being losers, we're like frickin celebrities) Oh! And (this is such a cool story) I met a super awesome girl named Olivia in my ward. Who turns out, grew up around the same part of Florida I did, and who's sister is in the same ward I was in when I lived in Florida? Yeah suuuuuper crazy small world! Anyway, we've been having great times with Fat Fridays, Jersey Shore nights, fist pumping like champs, hitting the gym, and just having great adventures.

There's definitely significant people who really kept me going, who I really truly appreciate a lot, and they probably don't know it.

Like, my family, for just caring so much.

And Mary. Who skypes with me all the time. No really. ALL the time. Whenever either of us has a bad day, we can call each other in a second and we know exactly what each other is going through. I'm just seriously so grateful to have a friend like her, that even if we've moved forever away from each other, we've still grown so close to each other, since we were babies.

And Alan. Without this kid, I probably would've died in band. Probably. He know's when I'm upset even when I don't talk about it, therefore he cheers me up 99% of the time.

And Karissa, Alec, and Alisha. Because they listen, they're on my side, and they make me laugh. And they're really wise. All of them, in their own way. They are definitely way more mature than they should be, and I love that so much.

Truth: I love college.
I may have had a rough start, I may have had some unexpected changes, I may have had experiences that I definitely didn't anticipate, but I'm really happy where I'm at now.
Sure, there could be aspects of my life I wish were better, it is very possible to be happiER, but I'm content.
...And I know this is where I'm supposed to be.

Once upon a time...

I hate chick flicks.
Nicholas Sparks? Yeah, hate him, and his books, with their pathetic movie renditions. Yes, that includes The Notebook. Oh, and the Twilight saga? Hate it. The cheeziness oozing out of every scene. You know, the boy brushing the hair out of the girls face ever so gently. The million dollar lines that every guy uses. The way everything works out for everyone...
Gag. Me.

Because let's be real. It doesn't work that way. How many girls have really been kissed in the rain? How many girls have really been fed the line, "you're my exception". (Which by the way, I would pretty much DIE if someone said that to me...) How many girls can really say that they had a prince charming sweep them off their feet and live happily ever after?
Not many. And kudos to you, if you're life is like a movie. A movie with a happy ending, that is.

But as unrealistic as they are and as disgusting as the cheezy level is...I throughly enjoy them. I get so into them too...clenching my fists, throwing pillows, yelling at the tv, and of course...bawling my eyes out. I know I'm not the only one, either.

Why?

Because every girl's life is like their own personal chick flick. Every girl watches these movies with a boy in mind. Every girl wants that happy ending. Every girl relates...somehow. Girls are analytical, it's a fact. And instead of wrapping themselves up in their own drama, they escape into the movie...which is probably why girls just love chick flicks.

I think they should make chick flicks more realistic. Take the real life situations. Take the girl who likes the boy who's away a mission for 2 years. Take the girl who can't get over the boy who treats her like crap. Take the girl that has feelings for her best friend, for the longest time, but no matter what she does, doesn't stand a chance. Or take the boy, even, that falls in love with a girl who shreds his heart and gets engaged to someone she's dated for a mere 3 months. You know what I mean. And by the way...they might not even have a happy ending. But it's real life.

Maybe I'm just feeling terribly cynical. One of my dear friends said to me, "You know what? I'm just going to meet someone in college. A gorgeous returned missionary who's rich and a musical prodigy...and he's just going to give me everything I want and we'll have beautiful children and we'll live happily ever after!" Yeah yeah yeah. That's what we're fed, even as children. Cindrella. Sleeping Beauty. Snow White. Yeah, even the Disney Princess have perfect love lives. So where's my Prince Charming? My knight in shining armor? Let's face it. As much as a girl dreams about a Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice...she's probably going to find someone much like a Kevin from 27 Dresses, aka, the douchebag who drives you crazy but you just can't get enough of. Or maybe that's just me, whatever.

The point of my story, or rant, is that chick flicks are unrealistic. Almost everyone knows that's not what real life is like...for guys and girls alike.

But you know what? I love chick flicks...and so does every other girl. Because it gives us hope. Because even if we've never been kissed by a boy we like, even if we've never been in a real relationship, even if we've been completely rejected...we keep swimming to find that other fish in the sea. Because someday it will happen, because hopefully someday, every girl will have her happy ending.

And on that note...I'm going to go watch He's Just Not That Into You.

Latress on the menjay

Ever since I moved here, some 3 years ago, I've had friends tell me that they'd come visit. "Oh my gosh, I want to come out there sometime!" ...but they never came. I mean, I don't blame them, tickets are terribly expensive, which is why I've never gone back to St. Pete myself. Anyway, when Allison told me she was going to visit, I thought, yeah of course you are.
Until she booked the flight.
Then it was for real.

So let me just summarize her stay here:

-First off, I compromised myself to babysit the Ellsworth kids. I moved into their house for about a week, drove their sweet Jeep (you can start the car by pressing a button on the key. what?!), and most importantly, took care of their 5, that's right...5...kids. We had Becca-14, Cami-13, Amy-9, Abby-6, Josh-3. They were great, no joke. Fighting was very minimal, they were very obedient, and very helpful. I think they taught me more than they realized. For instance, they taught me that I need to be financially ready for kids. One day one I took them to the movies. Then to get Coldstone. Then ordered pizza. Yeah, we spent about $80 that day. They also taught me that I need to be mentally ready for kids. One day, I woke up and found Josh upstairs by himself just singing and playing with trucks...naked. Where did his clothes go? Why on earth did he even take his clothes off? I do not know. All I know, is I'm too young to constantly be thinking for other people. I can barely keep track of my own life! But they did, however, help me realize that I can't wait to someday be a mom...I think I'd be pretty bomb at it!
...Oh, and they taught me to have respect for people with big families. Note to self: Have less than 5 kids. Kthanks.

-After the babysitting gig was over, Allison and I could do more grown up things. By grown up things I mean shopping. And by shopping I mean hitting every major mall in the area. Superstition, Fiesta, Tempe Marketplace...we hit them allllllllll. I never knew I could get sick of shopping...but I most definitely did. It was nice though, we got caught up on each others lives, I got a little taste of home. OH! She brought me the Longoria-Rays shirt that I've been dyyyyying for. We spent a lot of time listening to California Girls and whatever terrible music is constantly repeated on the radio. We hit Red Robin, where Alli experienced their glorious burgers. We hit Bahama Bucks which never lets us down. We hit QT, more than once of course, to get our caffiene on (and get headache pills, since she had this ongoing headache). On her last night, we hit Jack in the box, where the cashier couldn't believe that she'd never eaten there before. Afterwards, we took an adventure through Las Sendas. We nearly lost our voices from talking so much. We laughed hard...we went CRAY CRAY!

Anyway, it was really refreshing to have someone I grew up with come to visit. It used to get really hard for me when everyone around would talk about their junior high experiences...the memories they all had together and the crazy classes and teachers they endured. I would sit and listen, and even though their stories are interesting and entertaining, I never had any input. For once I could actually converse about my middle school experiences...the memories we had together and the crazy classes and teachers (or lack of) we endured. It was also nice that even though Alli and I hadn't talked that much, we could still get together and have such a good time...like we'd never been apart.

And for your viewing pleasure:

This is Abby. She's a diva. And she likes her boys. ;)

This is the first cherry stem I tied with my tongue. I was a little proud.

Allison was so fascinated by the amount of Jesus paraphenalia at Food City.

This is Josh. Yeah. Cutest kid of the year winner? I think so.

We went incognito when doorbell ditching/dropping off cookies.

42.

Fourty two.

That's it.

42 days until I move out. Until I enter the rest of my life. Until I call Tucson home. Until I can do whatever, whenever, where ever, with whomever I want.

Pretty daunting, eh?

But really, where did June go? Day in, and day out, I did the same thing over. And over. And over. Wake up at 8:30, watch World Cup matches for hours on end, practice the piano a bit, hit the gym, watch more Sportscenter/PTI/Around the Horn than is healthy for a girl...and then finally at 3 am, fall asleep. But as I actually sit back and look at the things I've done this month... I feel pretty accomplished! I told myself that this summer had to be memorable...after all, it's the last summer of childhood I've got.

So here's the recap of Summer '10-Month 1:

-I successfully managed to get laid off for the first time in my life. It was rather frustrating, since I was promised a job until I left for college. Even if my paychecks were meager, and the hours scarce, it was a job. It was great that Kirsten had to text me and tell me my name was scratched off, and my hours were gone...Oh well. Thanks to Tropical Smoothie, I met Alec, who's one awesome kid. Oh, and free smoothies and cookie dough were great too.

-I finally hiked A Mountain! Every time I passed Sun Devil Stadium, I told myself I'd get to the top, and I did. The first time, in the crazy heat, with Curtis...where we decided to be adventurous and not use the trail. Then from the top, we found a pool over at a resort on Mill Ave. Yeah, we snuck in, no big deal. The second time was with Alan and Zach, at night...which seriously, is one of the coolest things ever. Just sitting at the top and seeing all of the city lights...definitely goes down as one of my favorite places to be.

-...and I hiked Camelback Mountain! So prior to this hike, I'd never really hiked a mountain with any sort of challenge. Not to mention, I did a hard leg workout the day before, not one of my brightest decisons. Anyway, I'm proud to say that Curtis and I made it to the top! An eccentric fellow (who was apparentally interested in me and my hair...) at the top gave us a rundown on all of the mountains around the area, so we have an idea of what we want to conquer next. (p.s. this is basically the only picture I have so far this summer. Depressing? I think so.)

-For the longest time, I'd wanted to go to the river...and I finally did! Alan and I were mattress buddies, which was super chill...even though we got completely destroyed by the sun. I also managed to be knocked over by a current and lose my flip flops. Yeah, I'm so graceful.

-I met one of my work out goals!!! I can now squat 55 lbs on each side...and my goal was 50 by the end of the summer. I was so excited. My other goal was to do 5 pull ups...and right now I'm at 4. Which, compared to the NONE I could do before, is really sweet.

-Karissa, Tony, and I finally made a temple trip. It was short and sweet, but refreshing nonetheless. We're going to try and make it a weekly routine!

-Eclipse midnight showing. Oh my goodness. Karissa and I had far too much fun that night...laughing at the cheeziness of the movie, squirming at the passion in the movie, Claire de Lune, "soaking up our awesomeness", making fun of squealing girls, drawing parallels and connections, mean ghetto people in the parking lot...I just love that girl to pieces.

-Oh, duh, I got oriented! Daddy and I spent two days in Tucson, which was really nice, since I never see him. We made fun of boring speakers, annoying parents, and had an overall good time. My dad's the bomb.

-In honor of World Cup month...Al and I played soccer! Which really isn't a huge deal...but since I never EVER get to play anymore, any chance I get makes my day. I usually school him, but this time he pulled some slick moves that I was actually impressed by. Anyway, it was a way fun afternoon.

...and those are just some of the highlights of June. There's been tears. There's been honesty. There's been lessons learned. There's been good AND bad times. But I can't wait to see what July has in store for me!

To Whom it May Concern:

I just want a sign.
I just want to know what I'm supposed to do.
I just want an answer.
...Please?

When I grow up...

My parents always used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. They always suggested me being a lawyer, due to my competitive and argumentive nature. So for the longest time, whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I naively said, "A lawyer."
But, I've always been terrible with decisions, which led to me changing my career several times. I went from a fashion designer, to an interior designer, to an Olympic ice skater (a notion that died very quickly, when I realized I couldn't even balance on roller skates), to a psychologist.

For a while now, however, I've been completely set on being a journalist. Then I went to orientation, and they told me I had to choose a minor. What? Thank you, now I have to make another decision.

Anyway, as I thought about the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", it's not just what profession I want to pursue. It's more than that. It's who I want to be, what I want to acheive, what I want I want out of life.

-Yes, I want to be a sports broadcaster. I want to be the lady on the sidelines, the Pam Oliver. I want to be a professional, I want to wear high heels and a pencil skirt to work. I want to drive around town in a Camaro. I want to have an iPhone to keep track of my appointments, I want to "pencil people in". I don't want to worry about money. I don't want to be disgusting rich, I just don't want finances to get in the way of my life. I want a house with palm trees in the front yard, with a grand piano in the front room, with a big backyard. I want black and white portraits lining the walls and a big stainless steel kitchen. I want a polished dining table for family dinners and an LCD tv to watch football.

-I want to be a wife. I want a gorgeous wedding with red roses and an amazing photographer. I want to marry someone who's my best friend, someone I feel completely comfortable around. I want someone who supports me, and helps me reach my goals. I want to cook dinner and bake cakes and have my own little recipe book. I want to snuggle up and watch basketball at night. I want to be a mother...an awesome mother at that. I want to go to my daughter's soccer games and my son's football games. I want to go to their piano recitals and band concerts. I want to be their best friend and their biggest cheerleader. I want to be what my mom (and what my dad) was for me. I want to take family vactions to Hawaii and take family portraits on the beach. I want to tell them about pranks I pulled and about lessons I learned, and I want them to tell me about what happens in their lives.

-I want to put my talents to good use. I want to accompany choirs and perform musical numbers at church that bring people to tears. I want to teach others how to play the piano so they can in turn share it with others. I want to be a good example to someone. I want to know that I made a difference in at least one person's, other than my friend's/family's, life. I want to teach others what I know. I want to be active at church and have a strong testimony. I want to be the young women's leader I always wanted. I want to be someone that people can turn to when they need help, because they can rely on me.

-I want the people that I truly care about now to still be in my life. I want to know that I kept a select few friendships that meant the most to me. I want to be a good friend. I want to have lunch and go on cruises with the girls. I want to be in my best friends' weddings. I want to spoil my best friends' babies. I want to stay incredibly close to my own family. I want to always be involved in my brother's life. I want to give my parents vacations and presents, because it's the least I can do for them.

-I want to travel. I want to spend time in Panama. I want to be completely fluent in spanish. I want to taste real Italian food. I want to learn more about my ancestors on my dad's side. I want to know I lived life with no regrets. I want to skydive, be at Times Square on New Years Eve, and go to a World Cup game. I want to stargaze on the beach and see a show on Broadway. I want to reach my goals.

But most importantly, when I grow up, I want to be happy.

Read my mind.

So I've really been in the mood to write.
I grab a water. I get in position. I turn on my writing playlist. I stare at a blank screen.
And I stare.
And I stare.
And I stare some more.
I'm thinking about everything I could possibly write about.
Trying to take all these ingredients to create something yummy.
But I've got jalepenos, eggs, chocolate, and coconut. ...and those just don't mix.
Anyway, I finally concluded that I'm just really scatterbrained at the moment.

Why is that?

It's because I'm at a point in my life that I just don't know what or how I'm supposed to feel.
My dad often asks me how many days of school are left, and I realized I really hadn't been counting down.
Well, I counted today. There's 13 days left. 13 days of high school left.
There's a part of me that is so ridiculously excited. I've really had enough high school to last me a lifetime. I've burned a couple bridges. I've exhausted some relationships. It's time to get away, and start fresh. As far as academics go...I'm done. I go to school every day knowing I just have to get through. I sit through classes with absolutely no motivation whatsoever to open my book, to do my work, to study. Don't get me wrong, I haven't sacrificed any grades...I won't sink that low...but I am doing the absolute minimum amount of work to get by. It's getting harder and harder to even GO to class.

By the way, has anyone realized the connection between the song, Resistance by Muse and novel, 1984 by George Orwell? Yeah, it's pretty crazy.

Anyway, excitement. Graduation is what I've dreamed of since...forever. I remember the last day of elementary school and the last day of middle school. That feeling of accomplishment, the feeling that everyone, no matter what clique you were in, were connected for that one day. Everyone was happy. Everyone was smiling. Graduation from high school has to feel 10 times better.

Then there's that feeling of nostalgia. I've been going through all of my old pictures, trying to gather them all into various albums and slideshows for my open house. It's like...where did my life go? Not that I regret any of it, well, mostly any of it, but I just took so much of it for granted. I just feel like I could've done so much more, enjoyed so much more. Spent less time worrying...because the things I did worry about, obviously didn't matter in the long run. There's so many lessons I've learned over the years, so many things I WISH I would've known. But of course that's life for ya right?

I think I'm taking up an addiction to Jones soda. If you've never tried one...try a Strawberry Lime one now. You will not regret it.

But back to nostalgia. I hear about my old friends from St. Pete, and I hear about what they're doing. The IB kids are taking their exams...prom...Grad Bash...just all these things I planned for. Traditions. Things I were looking forward to. And now I don't have them. Not that I really WANTED IB exams...but it's just something I expected to do. It's just a little sad. Just a little.

Moving on to the sense of being overwhelmed. I feel like there's things I need to do for college. Like maybe find more scholarships or something. I don't know. It just doesn't feel squared away yet. I haven't got my dorm assignment...maybe once I get that I'll feel more closure. It's not like I've ever gone down this road before...so I don't know if I'm doing it the right way. There's also so much I need to get done before graduation...developing pictures, sending announcements, etc. Then there's concerts and banquets and yearbook parties and work...and they're all fun...it's just like every day there's something else to do. But in reality, those are the last ones...I should probably enjoy them while they last.

Oddly enough, I'm feeling a sense of confusion with a side of doubt. I've been so excited to go to UA...but strangely enough...I'm not feeling it. Well, I am, really, I am excited to go, but I've found a strange interest in BYU-Hawaii. I've always had a small interest in it, but I always put it on the UNREALISTIC list. Well, an old friend of mine goes there. I've been looking at the pictures she's posted of life there...and I have to admit...it looks awesome. Yeah, I know, Hawaii, of course it's awesome. But really. The atmosphere seems so friendly, so safe, so fun. It also seems really church oriented (obviously, it's BYU) but, more laid back than I think BYU-Provo or BYU-I would be. (which, at either of those schools, I'd kill myself) So I brought it up to my mom today and she was so supportive of that idea. I always thought she, of all people, would also classify that on the UNREALISTIC list, but she talked it up. She made me realize how much I, of all people, would enjoy it, and she would be okay with putting up some funding for it. Which prior to bringing it up, I looked up the cost, which was very very reasonable, much to my surprise. I think I just may have been a little hasty on my decision for Tucson. Like, I saw money, and ran with it, even if there may have been other options on the table. Anyway, I'm not saying it's going to happen. I'm not saying I'm not going to give UA a shot. I'm not saying I'm not going to enjoy myself in Tucson. What I am saying, is that if I feel the same way 2 years from now (because I couldn't stand to be that far from home during Tony's senior year), I'm going to try and make it happen. But we'll see where the wind takes me.

Lastly, there's that sense of growing up. The idea that I'm a little bird leaving it's nest. I'm flapping my wings hard, and I can either fly and make it to bigger and better places, or I can crash and burn. That fate rests in my hands. Mommy and Daddy can't make decisions for me anymore, and I won't be living with Mommy and Daddy anymore. And I'm okay with that, because it has to happen. That's life right? It's just a little bittersweet.

Well, a couple water bottles and a jones soda later, I've composed my thoughts. I don't know how many times I went through my playlist, but I've definitely had my daily dosage of Muse.
All in all, I'm living up these 3 weeks, that's something I decided with a good friend last weekend. I've rekindled some old friendships, and we're making up for lost time. Because that's what you gotta do now. Enjoy life, because now is certainly not the time to have grudges, to start drama, to worry about anything.

This is it.

What I live for.

I love my life.
No, really. I love my life.
About a month ago, I wouldn't have said that. But what's happening now is the reason I keep going.
Because everything happens for a reason.

"God breaks you down, only to help build you up...bigger and stronger."

I learned that at church once.
But it's so true! I just want to scream it to the world!
I'm just so happy right now, so content, so excited to live.
I want everyone to remember that everything happens for a reason.
I want everyone to remember to stay positive.
I want everyone to remember to smile and laugh at little things.
Because it's all SO true.

The friends, the job, the money, the dress, the dance, the scholarship, the jam sessions, the musical numbers, the family, the good health, the good grades, the good times...I could go on about the countless good things in my life...the blessings.

And I know this doesn't last forever, and I'm not saying my life is perfect right now, that it worked out exactly how I planned. Because it isn't, and it hasn't.
Stuff happens. So it's either I sit around moping around feeling crushed, or move on, and see the brighter side of things.
I'm going to fall sometimes, but, knowing that things will get better, that things HAVE gotten better...that I've seen this happen to me countless times?

...That's what I live for.

Don't feed the plants!

Can I just say I had the best weekend ever?
It's been a long time since I've said that.
No really, my mom started getting worried about me. I stayed home every weekend. Nothing happened, no plans. Nothing. It was starting to get old.

So for the past two weeks I was practicing for the school musical, Little Shop of Horrors. I was in the band, where I played the electric piano. At first I was pretty annoyed with the fact that I would have to put so much time into it, even if I didn't ask for it. But as the long, late night rehearsals started, I started having so much fun, that it didn't even matter. Since the band was so small, we sat in our little "music shop" and joked around, Mr. B and Mr. Schriber included. We even wore pajamas one night!

So after many wild car rides (which I was the chauffer, since they were all baby sophomores) and snack runs, opening night approached. We were all excited as ever, but I was extremely nervous for my fat solo in "Somewhere that's Green." Of course most wouldn't notice it, but I could, and I knew that at every single rehearsal, I didn't play it up to par. But that night, I nailed it!

Friday was even more fun. Mommy took me to Barro's after school, which I was craving, and I made some conclusions with her. Later, before the show, we played a game called "Yo Mamma" with the cast. They were such awesome kids! We then did vocal warm ups with them, and we didn't sound half bad! Needless to say, the show was a little shaky, but it happens. Afterwards, Daniela invited me to hang out with her friends--which was super exciting. I was going out for once!! haha. So we did some party hopping. Wound up talking to a random kid. And ended up at her house, having Girl Talk until 1 am, and having stark realizations. It was awesome! I think this will be a start to something new. :)

Saturday began early. I had an interview with the Hispanic Alumni of the University of Arizona, Phoenix Chapter, for a scholarship. The interview took place at the Phoenix campus, which was super far away, but I made it, no problem. The panel consisted of 5 people, including an intimidating, emotionless, old man. I answered the questions as best as I could, and I thought it went well, minus the grumpy old man. Of course, I second guessed everything I said, thinking about what I could've said, or what I should've said. I brushed that off, it was finale night!

Once again, we played "Yo Mamma" and warmed up with the cast. That's the perk of being in small groups, you can really get to know each other, and have fun. And this time, the show was nearly flawless. No mic problems. Minor timing issues. Perfect solos. Everything. It was just right. I also was fortunate to have a bunch of friends and my family come to the show, which of course made me so excited to see. Post-performance we had the traditional cast party on the stage, where we kicked back, took pictures, and had just a great time.

Then we went to the afterparty-castparty at Erin's house. The car ride there was almost as fun as the party itself. Anyway, somehow the band kids segregated ourselves from the rest of them, unintentionally of course. A.J, being the random kid he is, had a harmonica. Emily, being the next random kid she is, had a ukelele. Kyle and I, being the observant kids that we are, noticed the front room, fully equipped with a piano, a marimba, a string bass, a cello, a violin, and drumsticks. Since of course, we were all coincidentally in jazz band, we got the bright idea to play C Jam, and have an improv sesh. And it was a hot improv sesh, at that. We called solos, and even got people to scat. We had an audience and paparrazzi as well. It was awesome!!

So Sunday hit. Not a big pile of homework, an excellent lesson in YW, entertaining conversations with Alisha and Sam. Nothing extraordinary, but not bad. Then, around 9 pm, I get a phone call. "Hi Scarlett, this is Nick Gonzalez from the UA, we met on Saturday!" I won the scholarship! It's only $1000, but the fact that I was interviewed...and I WON it, meant a lot. That was definitely the good cherry on my Sundae. (haha get it, cause it was sunday?)

Those were the main good things about my weekend. There were little things scattered throughout, like talking and playing the question game with an old friend, making new friends, and moments that just made me smile. There were lessons learned, there were things that I took care of, that I had wanted to do for a long time. There were bittersweet moments throughout, the whole not going to prom thing still kills me. Having to confront a good friend also kills me. But I have faith. Things are going to work out. Things are working out.
Because, I firmly believe things happen for a reason. Life sucks sometimes. But that's when you learn the most. And when you've learned your lesson, that's when life starts looking up.
And I think I got there this weekend.

A month and 27 days.

So I'm in a boxing ring.
Every day it's just another hit.
Left hook.
Right hook.
Oh, what's up, upper cut?
And I'm just standing there. Taking it.
Like, really, do you want to hit me again? Because I'm pretty sure I'm numb to everything at this point.

This has gone on for over a week. I'm ready to tap out now.
I have a general desire to win everything. I'm extremely competitive.
But this one, this one's different.
This one I can't win.
This one is isn't a win-or-lose.
Because "winning" would require doing things that just aren't right.
And I'm above that.

So here's what I'm doing.
I'm done caring.
I've burned some bridges. Okay, I've burned a couple bridges.
It happens.
The only thing I can do right now is face forward. Not look back.
I'm not fixing, repairing, rebuilding...I'm starting over.
I can sit around feeling sorry for myself, or I can enjoy life.

I've got a month and 27 days left of high school.
...and I'm going to enjoy it.

Momma knows best.

Parents always say they're right. That they know best. Of course, when they tell us this, we as teenagers don't believe them.

"Please, there is no way that they can be right...they're not in my situation at all."

But I'm here to say that they are.
Not always.
But sometimes...When you least expect it.

I had a long conversation with my mom on Saturday. Lately, we've been having a lot more of these heart-to-hearts. Something about growing up and going to college, probably. Anyway. I was just going on a rant about something or another and she just looked at me and said, "I knew it."

And she was right. She did know it. For months she warned me about something I was too naive to see. She hinted towards something I was entirely oblivious to. She could see what I couldn't possibly see.

"You had to realize it. I'm glad you finally see it."

That's what's crazy about caring for someone. You can see when they're making a wrong choice, or when they're involved with someone that isn't right for them, or they're being taken advantage of...whatever. You can warn them all you want, but they aren't going to believe it until they realize it for themselves. And in the end, you have to hope they make the right decision and don't get hurt too badly. Sometimes you have to learn things by trying. And sometimes you have to kick back, be patient, and watch it all unfold.

I like the way my mom has raised me. I know I get her uncanny sense for reading people/analyzing situations...I just have to refine mine a little more. It takes me longer to realize my mistakes. But I'm glad she's let me learn these things on my own. Life experiences are what shape your character, what molds your personality. And I think I like where I'm going right now!

So yeah, I guess my mom does know best.
...except for when it comes to being anti-texting.

Brilliance.

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."

-Marilyn Monroe

Don't make someone a priority, if they only make you an option.

...Time to get my priorities straight.

Tickling the Ivories

I started taking piano lessons when I was 8 years old. At first I was so excited, so determined, so driven. That lasted a year or two. Then...I hated it. Practicing was a chore. Going to lessons was a fight. My mom's goal for me was to have me play hymns at church. My goal for me was to convince my mom to let me quit.

Fast forward to EFY (a church camp) that I went to when I was 14 years old. I saw kids my age, or a bit older, playing the piano with ease. They played hymns like whatever. I thought to myself, "I have 6 years of lessons under my belt, what makes them any different from me?"

Love. That's what they had...and I didn't. They had a genuine love for the piano.

So I came home from that camp inspired. I picked up a hymn book and ran through it, cover to cover, every day. It turns out, accompanying a group of people wasn't as easy as it seemed. I started small, playing right hand only, and upgraded to the organ. I got to a point where I could definitely play along, but I still had to practice a ton before the songs reached perfection, or somewhere close to it. I was also at the point that any solo, accompaniment, or performance in general made me extremely nervous. Sweaty palms, shaky hands...I had all the symptoms.

I thought about this today as I practiced the piano...About how much I used to hate it. But now, it's turned into something that's almost theraputic. Stressful day? Take it out on the piano. Frustration? Take it out on the piano. Anger, pressure, annoyance, happiness? Take it all out on the piano. I can't tell you how good it feels to go all out on a song. To exagerate every passage. To hit the sixteenth-note runs. To pound some chords. The trick is to get into every song. To lose yourself in the music, moving your body along with the rhythm. That's when you feel it. The pain in your fingers, forearms, and upper back. Worth it.

The piano is so useful as well. I can accompany people, I can entertain people. There's all types of genres--it's so awesome.I've gotten to the point that I can pick up nearly any song and play it. I no longer need a teacher, I teach myself...and other people for that matter. I don't get nervous before nearly anything...and it feels so good. The best is when I sit down for two hours and just practice. I don't get tired, I don't get sick of it.

So today I realized it. I have fallen in love with the piano.

The Old Folks Home

For mutual today we went to an old folks home. Service hours, do a little good, whatever. But it turned out to be more for me.

We went in to sing songs and what not, keep the old people company. We were specifically assigned to the special needs ward--which houses the alzheimers patients. Now, I'd never really had any pleasant experiences in old folks homes...especially with alzheimer patients. The last one I went to, old men were trying to grab me and it was a bit scary to say the least. But this time was different. The lady that was in charge had to be the most genuine, caring person I'd ever met. She treated each old person as if they were her best friend, and you could see the love she had for each one of them. She knew each of them by name, knew each of their stories, and could get each of them to talk. So tender.

Of course, in our little talent show, I was the pianist. Lisa (the lady in charge) told us the story of how they got the piano in that ward. Apparentally there was a patient there who was an accomplished pianist. Her husband brought her a piano so she could play. She played every day, by memory, all of these fantastic songs. About four months ago, she passed away. Her husband donated the piano, but since then, no one has played it. I felt so privileged to play that little upright piano.

Then after, I got to talking with some of the old folks. One lady in particular, Betsy, was fascinating. She was an english professor at the University of Illinois. We got to talking about Illinois, and Chicago, and how she didn't really go to clubs because she dated older guys who weren't into that kind of stuff but never got married because she liked the single life...but maybe in the future she'd like to get married. She was just so fun to talk to, even if she wasn't completely coherent. There was something so intreguing about her, that I just wanted to talk more. I felt like I could learn so much from her, even if her mind wasn't completely there.

All of the old people had their quirks. There was the one lady who gave everyone hugs and kisses because she just loved everyone. There was the old man visiting his wife like he does every day twice a day...because they had been married for 60 years. There was the lady who wanted to make it known that we were all beautiful, and repeated her self nearly every minute.

And I got to thinking...these people...these frail, shrivelled, old people, were just like me. Just like everyone I know. Young, vivacious, full of life. They had character. They had relationships. They had lives. Now they sit in a home, unable to put together coherent thoughts, some of them, and many of them don't even have a family that comes to visit them. How sad? I want to know more. What is going on inside of their heads? Are they reliving their glory days? Are they totally happy with themselves but can't express it? It's something I can't quite comprehend, but I feel like I can learn so much from them. And so I decided, that I want to be around them more. I want to help them, help bring them some life. I want to come by for an hour or two a week and just play the piano. Sit, and let them enjoy themselves, because music has a powerful effect on people. Then I can get to know some of them better. I feel that I'm in a place in my life right now that I need to stop focusing so much on me, and maybe focus on something else. Help other people. Use my talents to make other people happy.

Anyway...I guess old people really aren't that bad!

F is for Friends

It's amazing to me how a friendship can withstand time. And not only time, but distance.

Over the years, people have come in and out of my life. People change and people grow apart. "BFF'S" in elementary school, usually don't last through middle school. "BFF's" in middle school, usually don't last through high school. "BFF's" in Florida usually don't make their way to Arizona.

But I have 3 exceptions.

There's Mary Fulton.
Mary and I go back to the diaper days. We grew up in the same church--we saw each others families grow. We had always been friends, but grew closer as the years went on. We had our awkward phases, we had our getting-on-each-others-nerves phase. And we got past it all. Now we have countless inside jokes, and are able to talk on the phone for hours. We never went to the same school, but we always made it work.

There's Jen Wilson.
It started at Azalea Middle, where I was the new kid, and I thought she was a total prep. We started off not caring for each other, but after one project in english, we became friends. Throughout middle school we sort of hung out with different groups of people, but we were all considered the "cool kids". Then we isolated ourselves in the IB program, where we suffered together though old Biology teachers, annoying girls, and just a lame school in general. There we got even closer than before, and stuck together like glue.

There's Taylor Baxter.
We knew each other as babies, but never really got close till we were older...when we found out we were long distant cousins...by marriage. We had all of these memories together as children we never realized, and instantly became close. We lived 45 minutes away from each other, but were in the same stake, so we occasionally had times to hang out. The distance never stopped us then from being crazy and loud, and still doesn't stop us now.

As I talked to Jen on the phone today, I realized how special these three friends are to me. I've met some great people here in Arizona, but there's something about these three girls that astounds me. There's something about being able to talk to them for hours on the phone. There's something about being able to tell them all of my stories, and have them genuinely care. There's something about being able to call them on a whim to tell them something dramatic, and have them there for me, as if they lived next door. Today, Jen told me about a situation she was in that starkly resembled a situation I'm in. That just proves that even though we're thousands of miles away, we can still relate to each other, and we can still be there for each other.

The last time I physically saw Jen and Mary was last year when I went to Florida for band. They spent money and time to drive up to Disney so we could spend a day together. And the day I spent with each of them, was just like I had never left. They both plan on coming out to visit sometime this year/summer, and I'm so ridiculously excited.

None of these girls are really friends with each other. I met them all under different circumstances, but I love them all the same. I am amazed at how awesome they are, and how each one of them has grown up, and how they have turned out. I appreciate them, now more than ever, and I'm proud to say that I have three best friends that have withstood time, trials, and distance.

Legal.

18th birthdays never turn out how you expect them to.
...They turn out better.
For me, this weekend, it was the little things that made this monumental birthday one I'll never forget.

-It was late night phone calls and texts wishing me a happy birthday. It was people falling asleep on the phone, but insisting they were fine just to keep talking. It was a phone call from my aunt early in the morning singing to me in spanish. It was countless birthday wishes on facebook from people I thought forgot my existence.

-It was a birthday dinner with unexpected rendevouzs and stark realizations. It was my mom genuinely caring about me, and genuinely understanding the way I felt. It was a super nice waitress who announced to the resteraunt that I was 18.

-It was my mom. It was what she wrote in her card. It was how much she wanted to make this a special day for me. It was my brother, trying just as hard, saving me a cinnamon roll, buying me roses, knowing I love smoothies and burgers. It was my dad and his excitement with sending me funny cards, and wanting to hear my reaction. It was my grandpa, who despite his hard shell, sent me a beautiful heartfelt card, with a nice check inside.

-It was the people who I least expected to care. It was one of my church leaders coming over to drop off a big bouquet of balloons and a present. It was a friend making cookies and dropping them off, as well. It was the guy at the ice cream place who gave me free ice cream. It was someone I only occasionally talked and joked with who came and gave me a Jamba Juice gift card, simply because she could. It was these things that stood out most.

-It was a friend who genuinely cared about my feelings, and cared that I needed to have a special birthday. It was a friend who picked up the pieces. It was a friend who knew exactly how to make me happy and made sure I had a night to remember. It was a friend who listened. It was this friend who made my birthday the most special.

-It was the realization of growing up, of moving on, of knowing the reality. It was knowing who genuinely cares about you, and who puts other feelings in front. It was the confirmation I needed to know that I was making the right decision, even though the decision is a hard one.

All in all, I had a birthday to remember. A great way to kick of my first year off being legal. Now, on to making it a good one.

Hi, college scholarships.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved sports.
I remember Sunday afternoons as a small child watching Bucs games with my dad. I remember discussions at the dinner table about what a “pickle” meant in baseball and about what “offsides” meant in football. I remember analyzing my soccer games… determining what went wrong, what went well, and how I could improve my game. As I got older, I finally started gaining my own opinions about sports rather than regurgitating my dad’s. I became the girl who argued about pro and college athletes with the boys, the girl who sat and watched Sportscenter intently with the boys, the girl who could recognize a “shotgun formation” and could analyze games with the boys. At first they didn’t take me seriously. A girl who talks sports? Please. Until I started spitting facts and holding my own, proving points and proving that I was right. Then they respected me. Then I was included.
One day, as I watched a football game, I noticed Pam Oliver on the sidelines. She ran alongside the coaches during half time, she fought her way through hoards of players at the end of the game. That’s when I realized…I want to do that. I want to be the lady on the sidelines. I want to be on ESPN.
I realize my dream is a little far-fetched. What are the odds I’ll make it to a nationally syndicated sports broadcasting network? But I plan on starting small. I’ve started down the journalism path, working as an editor for the yearbook staff, learning critical interviewing and writing skills. Just as I sat by my dad as a little girl asking him simple sports terminology, I’ve learned to ask questions to pure strangers, being able to spark a conversation and get the information I need to do my job. I love to write, and I love to talk, so what better major than journalism? I’ve also come to realize that in order to get to the top of the mountain…I need to climb over some boulders. I’m perfectly content with working for a small newspaper or a small news channel if that means getting experience I need to grow in my expertise, and to prove myself. Like I had to prove myself “worthy” of talking sports with the boys, I have to prove myself in the area of sports journalism.
It’s a hard life out there for a woman in the world of sports. There aren’t many that make it big, and I’m sure the competition is fierce. It’s also very rare for a man to really respect a female sports broadcaster. A good guy friend of mine once told me, “You’re not going to get on ESPN, but please, try and prove me wrong.” If there’s anything I’ve learned from being with the boys is how to handle a challenge. To take someone talking down to you, and prove them wrong. So someday in the world of sports, I will be respected. I will be included. Someday, I will be on ESPN.